


The morning after the night before

by clottedcreamfudge



Series: Tooth-rotting Malec nonsense [4]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Alec is soft, Alternate Universe - Human, Breakfast, Clubbing, Dancing, Drinking, Fluff, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Magnus is also soft, One Night Stands, Tequila, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, except not really, nobody is drunk, the morning after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29566107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clottedcreamfudge/pseuds/clottedcreamfudge
Summary: “Come home with me?” Magnus asks, and Alec doesn’t do that, okay? He doesn’t go clubbing, he doesn’t dance with attractive men who make his heart and body thrum with something wild and unnameable, and he doesn’t go home with them afterwards.“Yeah,” he says, still trying to get his breath back. “Yeah, okay.”➼Alec doesn't go clubbing, except when he does.Alec doesn't go home with people, except when he does.He doesn't start falling in love with strangers at the drop of a hat, except when hedoes.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: Tooth-rotting Malec nonsense [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2170269
Comments: 46
Kudos: 275





	The morning after the night before

Alec doesn’t really go home with people when he goes clubbing.

No wait, that’s all out of order. Let’s try that again.

Alec _never goes clubbing_. And when he’s _not going clubbing_ , he’s pairing that up with _not sleeping with anyone ever._ Basically, the fact that he doesn’t go home with people when he goes clubbing is implied by these other statements of fact. He works full-time, he studies for his PhD in his off hours, and he and Jace beat each other up at the gym every time either of them needs to work off any excess energy (for Jace it’s just how he _is_ , and for Alec it’s because he’s literally never gotten laid and by this point he’s carrying around a certain amount of perpetual tension). Alec occasionally has a glass of wine with dinner that he’s not sure he likes because it just seems like the thing to do once you’re an adult. He’s boring and he _knows_ it. It’s fine.

However, it’s Izzy’s 21st birthday, which means he’s breaking his impressive 23-year streak of _not clubbing_ , and is in fact… clubbing. 

It’s awful, obviously, which is why he finds himself at the bar ordering drinks he’s really not going to enjoy, but which will hopefully at least get him a little closer to passing out alone in his one bed apartment.

He downs his two shots of tequila with a wince, then orders two more. Hopefully they’ll all hit at once and then Izzy can’t be mad at him for going home, since he’ll be a handful of seconds away from falling over.

“You don’t look like you’re enjoying those,” someone says next to him, sounding amused, and Alec rolls his eyes as he turns to tell the stranger to mind his own fucking business - except he can’t. The second he lays eyes on the man, he kind of forgets how to talk. His mouth feels numb, the sting from the tequila already fading into insignificance, and when he swallows it’s completely dry in spite of the liquor he just knocked back.

The stranger is probably the most attractive man Alec’s ever seen in his life; even the strobing neon lighting seems incapable of hiding that fact. For all that Alec thinks everyone else looks washed out and unremarkable here, this man is practically a fucking _beacon_ in the dark. He’s all glitter and sharp eyeliner - which it’s worth noting Alec had _no idea_ he’d be into - and Alec doesn’t feel like he can even look at him for very long because he might get lost and never stop staring. The man holds himself with a quiet confidence that’s incredibly sexy, presumably completely aware of the effect he must have on every single human being he’s ever encountered; how could he not be?

“Um,” Alec says, which isn’t exactly eloquent, but is at least a noise. It’s a step in the right direction.

“Dance with me,” the man suggests, and Alec _can’t dance_ but he finds himself nodding anyway, letting himself be dragged away from his untouched tequila shots and into the stifling crowd, like this isn’t his idea of hell. Then he has this beautiful, glamorous stranger pressed against his front, hands firmly on his hips, and it doesn’t seem that bad anymore.

“I don’t really-” Alec is practically having to yell over the music to make himself heard, but the guy just leans up and cuts him off with a simple breath against the shell of Alec’s ear.

“Just follow my lead,” he says, and Alec just… does.

Dancing, as it turns out, is a lot easier when your partner is apparently very good at it - not that Alec has a great deal of experience. The guy moves with a sinuous grace, and Alec automatically moves with him and against him like his body’s tuning into an entirely different frequency; he’s always felt too awkward in his skin for this, never really tried to get better at it because he thought it didn’t _matter_.

Right now, it kind of feels like it’s the _only_ thing that matters.

He doesn’t know how many songs they dance to - wouldn’t be able to say what the songs were even if he _had_ been paying attention, probably - but eventually the guy drags him back to the bar and a few moments later he has a glass of water in his hand. 

“Thanks,” he says somewhat breathlessly, then downs the whole thing because actually - yeah. Wow. He’s seriously thirsty.

“I’m Magnus, by the way,” the man says, looking amused and a little _something else_ , maybe, as Alec passes the back of his hand briefly across his mouth.

“Alec,” he responds, apparently able to form the syllables even past the hormone soup in which his brain is currently swimming.

“Short for anything?” Magnus asks, stepping a little closer and tilting his head up slightly to eye Alec with heat and curiosity. “Alexander, perhaps?” Alec nods, once again rendered incapable of speech. Magnus smiles, and Alec wants to kiss him so badly it manifests as a physical ache in his bones.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, because apparently when he _can_ speak again, he wants to go ahead and open himself up to deep embarrassment and possible rejection. Before Alec can retreat entirely into a state of pure mortification, however, Magnus is breathing out, _"yes"_ , winding his arms around Alec’s neck and pulling him down-

Alec hasn’t really done this before, but just like on the dancefloor, Magnus makes it _easy_. He takes the lead again and all Alec has to do is follow, their mouths moving in sync until they have to break off, oxygen becoming very much necessary for all their reluctance to part. Alec can’t help but dip back in for more almost immediately, and Magnus responds with gratifying enthusiasm, pulling him impossibly closer to the toned lines of his body. Alec feels stiflingly warm, his skin tingling everywhere Magnus is touching him.

“Come home with me?” Magnus asks, and Alec doesn’t _do_ that, okay? He doesn’t go clubbing, he doesn’t dance with attractive men who make his heart and body thrum with something wild and unnameable, and he doesn’t go home with them afterwards.

“Yeah,” he says, still trying to get his breath back. “Yeah, okay.”

➼

Alec wakes up with no idea where he is, and without a stitch of clothing on him. He doesn’t have a headache and it kind of feels like he must have brushed his teeth last night, so he’s definitely not hungover or especially _gross_ , but he was out for Izzy’s birthday last night and-

It all comes back to him in a rush.

Getting two shots into an attempt at loosening up; dancing with Magnus; kissing Magnus; _going home with Magnus_. He remembers everything in full technicolour now. They’d kissed against Magnus’s front door, on his couch, on his bed - where Alec is _right now_ \- and then…

Alec’s trying not to think about “and then” because he thinks he should probably try and keep his brain functioning in some capacity outside of the gutter. He looks around, noting with a lurch that he’s alone, before the sound of a radio filters into his consciousness and he realises Magnus is still here. Of course he’s still here; he _lives_ here. Alec doesn’t have any experience of this at all, but he’s pretty sure that the doesn’t-live-here half of the one-night stand is meant to be the one to leave.

Which is him.

The thought fills him with dread but he climbs out of bed anyway, managing to locate his boxers and jeans from the night before and slip them on. His shirt, however, is nowhere to be seen, which is when he remembers that Magnus _definitely_ took that off him when they were in the living room.

So, no sneaking out then. Not that he _wants_ to sneak out, since he’s pretty sure he fell at least a third of the way in love with this complete fucking stranger last night, but he knows there are rules you’re meant to follow. He finds his phone on the nightstand and considers Googling them before he realises that would be a step too far. He has a text from Izzy, but he vaguely remembers texting her last night to let her know he was with someone, so at least she probably isn’t freaking out. Small mercies.

He looks at the door. _Fuck it._

When he enters the kitchen and living area, he’s immediately assaulted with the twin smells of cooked breakfast and coffee, which is just… kind of the opposite of what he’d been expecting. He’s brought up short by it - ends up standing in the middle of the living room as he stares over at where Magnus, beautifully soft in yoga pants and a tank top, is apparently cooking him _breakfast_. The radio plays something classical in the background, and the morning’s rays flow lazily across the floorboards and off-white walls, stuttering brightly over the golden musculature of Magnus’s arms as he moves around the kitchen.

Alec had all of that _on top of him_ last night. What the fuck.

“Alexander!” Magnus says when he spots him, stopping in his plating up in order to close the space between them, practically _gliding_ across the room _;_ he’s smiling warmly like he’s been waiting for Alec to wake up and is actually _pleased_ to have him there, and it kind of takes Alec’s breath away.

“Hi,” he says weakly, then Magnus is in front of him and leaning up, kissing him like he doesn’t care that Alec probably has morning breath and it’s just… so fucking nice. It’s perfect.

“Hope you’re hungry,” Magnus says brightly as he pulls away, taking Alec’s hand to tow him through to the kitchen, guiding him to one of the barstools and kissing him again before going back to the stove. Alec’s coming to the realisation - admittedly very slowly - that this might not just have been a one-night stand.

“Starving,” he admits, smiling softly in spite of his abject confusion. He’s shirtless in the kitchen of an almost-stranger after losing his _virginity_ to said almost-stranger, and he should probably be freaking out, but he just _isn’t_. He doesn’t think he can - he’s too fucking happy. It’s probably a little sad that this feeling is so alien to him, but he doesn’t really mind about that either; he’ll probably do things like ‘minding’ and ‘freaking out’ later.

“So,” Magnus says once they’re seated and tucking into a breakfast of truly mammoth proportions, “I kind of meant to ask you out on a date last night, but I got a bit carried away.” Alec pauses with a piece of bacon halfway to his mouth and raises his eyebrows at Magnus, who is purposefully not meeting his eyes.

“Carried away?” he echoes, and Magnus may not be blushing but he’s certainly looking a little caught out. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“I think you’re underestimating just how good-looking you are, Alexander,” Magnus says, perhaps a little defensively, before sighing and putting down his knife and fork. When his eyes meet Alec’s, there’s a little jolt in his stomach somewhere behind his bellybutton, like he’s being inexorably pulled into Magnus’s orbit. “Last night was amazing, but I really did have slightly more wholesome designs on you. I hope I haven’t ruined that.”

Magnus thinks he’s _ruined_ something? Alec stares at him for a moment before very slowly putting down his own knife and fork and sliding his hands across the table to tangle with Magnus’s. He hadn’t noticed last night, but his nails are painted a pearlescent turquoise, shimmering slightly in the early morning light coming through the windows.

“ _Nothing_ is ruined,” he says firmly, voice a little thick but nonetheless steady. “And I would love to go on a date with you. If you still want to.” He wants to go on several dates with Magnus, hopefully with more of last night’s activities in-between, with the eventual end goal of marriage and adopted children. But he may be getting a little ahead of himself.

“I do,” Magnus says immediately, smiling at him warmly. Alec suspects his answering grin is a little goofy, but right now he doesn’t mind too much.

“Great,” he says, and a moment later he has a lapful of Magnus, a mouth that tastes a little of coffee and toast pressed against his. Breakfast, Alec thinks, can probably wait. Anything but this - the soft, sweet drag of Magnus’s mouth against his - can _wait_.

_This_ can’t.

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt was just 'making breakfast', and yes it was a bit spicier than some of the others but there was NO ACTUAL SMUT and it was still fluffy as heck, so I figure it's all gravy.


End file.
